


Facets

by TiggyMalvern



Series: Evolving Arrangement [2]
Category: Trigun
Genre: Angst, Canon - Manga, Conflicted Consent, Excessive Drinking, Guilt, M/M, Sex for all the wrong reasons, sex as anger management
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 03:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiggyMalvern/pseuds/TiggyMalvern
Summary: How the Occasional Sex Arrangement got started.





	Facets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel to Need, because more than one reader wanted to know how that arrangement began. I'm posting here in order of writing, not chronological order, because I think they work better that way. Thanks to Renet and Someone Else Anonymous for the great betas. Originally posted 21 July 2004.  
Fanart by P. L. Nunn is at the end.

Vash wasn’t any different. Except that he was.

Wolfwood had expected tears, yelling, brooding. Something. But Vash acted the same as ever, the loud, grinning idiot who bugged the hell out of just about everybody unlucky enough to get stuck within hearing distance. Right now, he was sitting with a group of drunks he’d latched onto within minutes of walking through the door, his cackling laughter carrying over all the noise of a crowded bar.

Wolfwood shifted uncomfortably on his barstool. It was too damn hot in here despite the desert night outside, too many people in too small a space and his shirt was sticking to the back of his neck. 

He took a sip of his drink, the heat of it harsh on his tongue and welcome in his throat as he let it trickle down. Watching as Vash drained another glass in the corner of his vision, as he collapsed against the back of his chair, giggling wildly at whatever stupid thing the guy in the hat just said. Just another lush in a bar, drinking heavy with friends on a boring night in a shit-hole town.

He was good at it too, enough that Wolfwood had briefly wondered if maybe the guy who cried over strangers was another part of the same act. If he hadn’t been watching real close, he might have missed the flashes of _something_ between the lines, gone too fast for him to put a name to.

He’d figured it would ease off over a few days or a week. Vash was big on the guilt thing, but he couldn’t carry it around forever. It wasn’t even his fault in the first place. But nearly three weeks down the line, and Vash seemed just a bit more off every day when he hit the bars. It was like having a speck of sand in the bike’s fuel lines, the catch and stutter getting worse each time he felt it.

Another cigarette burned down to the filter, and he squashed it into the ashtray, already reaching for another. He was way too broke to do this, but then he was saving money on the booze, so what the hell. He stared down into the drink he’d been nursing since he got here, wondering how much longer he could stretch it out before the barman got pissed.

Another burst of distinctive laughter, and his eyes flicked right back to Vash. He was drooping forwards almost into his glass now - he’d refilled again pretty damn fast - pushing his glasses back up his nose just before they slid off.

The glasses weren’t an affectation, crazy ‘the Stampede’ design or not. He wore them to keep the suns out of his eyes when he needed to, even ran around in full daylight sometimes without them. 

He was sitting over there now with a huge grin on his lips and two round yellow reflections hiding his eyes. 

This was different than how he got when people died. However much he hated it, Vash was almost used to that.

Vash’s voice was getting louder with every drink, his gestures more exaggerated. Wolfwood had seen him drink before, but he was knocking them back now in a deliberate rhythm that he didn’t much like. A drunken Vash was normally an annoyance, not a real problem, but a strung-out guy with a gun and too much booze was a lousy combination he’d seen way too often to be comfortable with.

Wolfwood sighed and looked back down at his glass. He may as well get the benefit of it before he left. He drained the last of the whiskey in a fast swallow, a satisfying burn he’d been denying himself for well over an hour, then slid off his stool and headed over to Vash.

“Hey.” He slapped a hand down onto Vash’s shoulder, the blond head twisting round slowly to look at him. “We should go hit another bar, there’s gotta be somewhere livelier in this town.”

Vash’s grin slipped into something more like a pout. “But I’ve got friends here.” He waved his hand towards the drunks sharing his table, nearly smacking the guy on his right across the face. Not that he looked like he was in a state to notice much, whoever he was; he didn’t even flinch, just blinked curiously up at Wolfwood.

Wolfwood looked back to Vash, fixed on a crooked smile around his cigarette. “Yeah, but I had a different sort of company in mind.”

There was a thoughtful pause before Vash’s grin reappeared, ridiculously wide, showing all those perfect white teeth. “Ah.”

“Yeah. Ah. Let’s get going while you can still stand.” Wolfwood grabbed the collar of the coat and tugged. Vash took the hint and scrambled to his feet, fishing through his pockets and squinting at the cash he found before throwing some onto the table. A couple of coins rolled right off it again and clinked onto the floor.

“For the check,” he announced grandly to his slow-reacting drinking buddies. “See ya later, guys.” Wolfwood grabbed hold of the arm that wasn’t waving.

A chorus of slurred variants on goodbye followed them as Wolfwood pulled Vash towards the door, steering him round the crowded tables. Vash tripped over someone’s foot all the same and slammed into the back of him. “For Christ’s sake, Vash.” He pushed him upright again and managed to drag him out the door without attracting too much attention from anyone sober.

The night air hit the layer of sweat on his skin, making him goose pimple and shiver. Just two hours past second sundown and it had to be around freezing. He draped Vash’s arm over his shoulder - it made him easier to steer as well as keeping his neck warm - wrapped his own arm round Vash’s waist, and headed off.

Vash never took long to start sobering up once they got outside, just like it never took him long to get stinking drunk in the first place. A couple of minutes of wobbling unsteadily down the street, and Vash was supporting more of his own weight, though he was still wrapped around Wolfwood, and grinning cheerfully at him. “So where are we going then?”

“Dunno,” he lied.

“There’s that place we saw on the way into town - with the bald thomas on the sign, remember?”

He remembered. Vash seemed hell bent on spending the night getting hammered in places even Wolfwood would call dives. “That’s way over the other side of town.”

“So?” The glasses were slipping down Vash’s nose again as he tipped his head.

“So it’s freezing out here.”

Vash waved his free hand - the real one - through the air in front of him a few times. “Is it?”

“You can see your breath.”

Vash huffed out air loudly, almost going cross-eyed to watch as it drifted cold and white in front of him. “Hey, so I can. So where _are_ we going?”

Wolfwood switched direction, steering Vash towards the side street coming up. “This way.”

Vash dug his heels into the dirt. Hard. And with those boots of his, that meant he got damn near impossible to shift. “The bars are on the main street.”

Wolfwood disentangled himself from Vash and leaned him against the nearest wall while he fished out his cigarettes and lit one. “I thought we could go back to the hotel.”

“You said we were going to another bar!”

“There’s a bottle in my room we can drink. It’s cheaper.”

Vash’s eyes narrowed. “What about the girls?”

He exhaled smoke in a slow stream. “What girls?”

“You said you wanted better company.”

For a drunk, Vash could remember the details real well. “I’m broke. Girls aren’t interested unless you can at least buy ‘em a few drinks first.”

Vash seemed to think about that for a few moments, then pushed himself off from the wall, grinning cheerfully again as he started walking. “Okay. We’ll drink at the hotel then.”

Vash seemed to be managing just fine on his own now, so Wolfwood walked alongside him, the cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free in case. 

The back of his neck was cold.

“Wolfwood?” Vash’s head was turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” He spoke around the cigarette, watching Vash for any signs of instability now he wasn’t even looking where he was going. 

“So how far’s the hotel again?”

Wolfwood eyed him, cursing Vash yet again for being a chatty drunk. “You know where it is.”

Vash frowned thoughtfully. “I think I did know. But now I don’t.” He switched back to smiling again, wide and vacant. It was getting on Wolfwood’s nerves. 

“Can’t you just stop with the damn grinning?”

Vash’s smile didn’t change one bit, but it was there again, the catch of _wrongness_ in his head, the feeling that there was someone very sober watching from inside the drunk. “So what else should I do?”

He wanted to tell him to act normal. But that was exactly what Vash was trying to do, and it was grating on him like wind-blown sand. “Just -- just shut the hell up and smile at the cats or something if you have to.” Right on cue, there was a four-legged black shadow sliding along the wall opposite.

“You’re no fun.” Vash was pouting again – an improvement of a kind.

“Not right now, no.”

“Good thing you changed your mind about the girls. Don’t think they’d have liked you like this.”

“Damn, I need a drink,” he muttered. Thankfully the hotel was right there, and he dug out his keys to the outer door, flicking his cigarette butt into the street before he unlocked it. 

He let Vash go in ahead of him. That way he could keep an eye on him and not have to look him in the face. If Vash kept on smiling that way, he was gonna have to hit him just to make him stop. 

Vash seemed to be over his bout of drunken amnesia and headed unerringly to Wolfwood’s room. He was a lot steadier on his feet, too, making it up the stairs easy enough. He lounged against the doorframe while Wolfwood unlocked it. Wolfwood hoped Vash still had the keys to his own room on him somewhere, and decided that either way it was gonna be better not to ask.

Wolfwood locked the door again behind them, too many years of living this way even before Vash to be keen on uninvited guests.

He grabbed the bottle from his bag and two cheap glasses from the cupboard, poured a measure into each. A small measure - just enough so Vash couldn’t whine he hadn’t been given the promised drink. He turned and held out one glass.

Vash’s gaze was keenly focussed and unwavering. He didn’t reach for the glass. “I know what you’re doing.” The remnants of Vash’s drunkenness slid away, though his breath stank of the booze. He didn’t move, but his entire body language shifted into something harder. His eyes stared at Wolfwood, fine lines tight at the edges. Hell, he got to looking so much _older_ in that swift second, though Wolfwood couldn’t have said why. “Don’t.”

Awareness prickled uncomfortably down Wolfwood’s spine, the knowledge that he was standing here now with a Vash he only knew by reputation. 

“I’m doing what you would, pretty much,” he said.

It didn’t change the way Vash was looking at him, his eyes golden behind the lenses and reminding him unpleasantly of Legato’s. The soft voice when Vash spoke was doing nothing to ease Wolfwood’s radar either. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve lived a long time without one.”

“I know that.” He put the whiskey glasses back down on the desk. Sure didn’t look like they were gonna be drinking any more for now. “Sometimes I think you could use a friend, though.”

Vash was still watching him, his eventual response studied and calm. “Are you my friend, Wolfwood?”

Fuck. 

Yeah, Vash was damn sharp and he’d given himself away more than a few times, he knew, but he’d never expected to get the direct question. Jesus, everybody was Vash’s friend just so long as they didn’t try to kill him, including anyone he met ten minutes back.

He fished a cigarette from his pocket, raised it to his lips as he reached for the matches on the table. Playing it careful, because too fast an answer would just seem glib. Hiss of match and heat of smoke, and this was one of half a dozen reasons he’d taken up the habit, because it was a good way to fill a gap.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said eventually. It wasn’t even that much of a lie when he thought about it. 

“Good.” Vash’s smile was back.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Wasn’t Vash’s bullet that hit her.

“I know.” The edge in Vash’s tone told him the subject was off limits. The smile was still there, and something else in the way Vash was looking at him, something a little less obviously dangerous and a little more –

Vash slid a hand under his jacket and up onto his ribcage, fingers pressing hard enough to drag the cloth of his shirt along with them, his skin bared to the chill air as the material pulled away. Wolfwood didn’t look down, eyes locked with Vash’s that were asking him some pretty obvious questions.

Sex, yeah. Sex he could do. Anything would be better than _talking_ right now, because Vash this edgy was like crossing fucking steamjet country. And Vash was a long way from unattractive if you could ignore the scars, and yeah, he’d thought about it a couple of times, but – 

If he went along with this, he was gonna get fucked. There wasn’t a hint of give in Vash’s expression right now; he was all about the taking. It was a lousy situation to get himself into with a guy who was so damn unpredictable, and with someone wound this tight it was a good way to get hurt.

But _something_ was gonna have to give, sooner or later, with the way Vash had been acting. His job was to stick with Vash and he really didn’t want to be around this wired, sharply suspicious version any longer than he had to. So maybe Vash could fuck it out of his system, or maybe he’d just ease off on questioning Wolfwood’s reasons for being in his life if they did this.

Vash’s fingers moved further round his body and tightened, pulling him closer. Shit. He hadn’t made a move, but he hadn’t kicked him off either, and Vash was taking that as a yes. His mind ran fast over the basics - he had condoms and lube stashed somewhere, didn’t he? This assignment hadn’t given him too many chances to get laid so far, so yeah, they should still be around. He figured it was about as okay as he could make it. 

And if Vash wasn’t careful enough, he’d rip his fucking balls off.

He slid a hand between the coat tails and up onto Vash’s thigh, left thigh, away from the gun. Shifted his hips forward, feeling Vash already hard. Wondered how long he’d been thinking about this before he made a move. Vash gave a pleased sort of hum in his throat and leaned forward to lick Wolfwood’s neck, blond spikes brushing against his chin.

He stank of smoke from the bar, not much like Vash at all.

Weird to think he knew how Vash should smell, but he did. He’d cleaned up earlier, so mostly he should smell of that crap he put on his hair every day. Before that, it had been three days of stale sweat and sand. And on the rare occasions he used the auto in his left arm, the bitter cordite tang overwhelmed everything else.

Vash’s hands slid lower, down onto his ass, pressure firm and good. Vash’s mouth moved along his neck, the skin he left behind damp and cool and very, very aware.

He wondered what the hell Knives would make of this. The bastard should have warned him. He must’ve known his brother was into guys. 

And then he got to wondering if he’d been singled out for the job precisely because he was the type who’d push Vash’s buttons this way. Stick with Vash, yeah, gain his trust, yeah. Shit, that fucker Knives had set him up!

“Relax.” Vash’s voice whispered at his ear, warmth of lips and air on his skin. Soft, slow movement of hands across his back beneath the jacket, and that was just odd, because he’d figured Vash in this mood was gonna pounce on him. Wolfwood deliberately eased the rigid tension out of his body, unlocking muscles, loosening the grip his hands had instinctively found on Vash’s coat. 

“Yeah, better.” Vash spoke into his neck, feather-light brush of lips kind of nice. “Don’t think so much.” Oh, and that was pretty goddamn funny, coming from Vash. Like he’d be here at all if Vash wasn’t so lousy at letting bad shit drop.

Not getting drunk was turning out to be one hell of a mistake.

He tipped his head back, giving Vash easier access along his collar bone, ran his hands around Vash’s body beneath the coat. He was gonna do this anyway, so he might as well stop picking over it. And Vash’s mouth on his skin was pretty good actually, soft lips and heated breath and the right amount of flicking tongue, not too wet.

Damn, that mouth was going to feel so good on his cock. He planned on getting that before he let Vash fuck him. 

Yeah, his cock was getting interested now; interested in the way Vash’s body pressed up against him as he sucked along his jaw, interested in the way ridged leather felt beneath his fingertips, following the curve of muscle and spine up under the coat. Vash sighed out air in long, slow exhales as his mouth worked on Wolfwood’s skin, his chest moving beneath Wolfwood’s exploring hands in an easy rhythm that was suddenly fascinating, Wolfwood’s own breathing harsh and irregular in his ears by comparison.

Vash stepped back, his fingers working at the fastenings of the red coat, watching him all the while from behind the glasses with that intense, unwavering gaze. Wolfwood took that as his own cue and shrugged out of his jacket and the pair of .45s, hanging them over the chair behind him. He pulled out his cigarettes and matches, setting them on the table by the bed, and kicked off his shoes before turning back to Vash.

Vash stood outlined in black, sprawl of red cloth at his feet.

The coat hid so much more than just Vash’s guns and the scars. It emphasised his height, made him look kind of lanky, when in reality he was built with some serious muscle. And, yeah, he _knew_ that, but it was one of those things his mind just seemed to slide past when he spent the days with a guy who goofed and grinned and ate like a starving dog.

His eyes strayed over Vash’s body, following the changing contours of tight definition beneath the leather as he bent to remove his boots. Watching the movement of muscle in Vash’s scarred right arm as he unbuckled the holster from his hip, noticing the thick lines of the veins beneath the pale skin. 

Getting a good look at Vash again now, he was suddenly less sure he could keep control of the situation if Vash didn’t play nice. 

Shit.

Vash watched him watching all the while; he sure as hell didn’t seem in any hurry to get on with this now he’d started it. 

Vash brought the gun with him when he walked over, finally taking off the glasses and putting them by the bed with the revolver. Turned slowly to face Wolfwood and lifted his hands to his shoulders, pushing him back and down.

Wolfwood squashed his instinctive response to fight it, deliberately relaxed his body and let Vash press him down onto his back on the bed. 

He was playing Vash’s game for now. Within limits.

The bed creaked and sagged as his full weight settled into a mattress that probably wasn’t that much younger than he was. It shifted again as Vash stretched out beside him, lying on his side with his arm supporting his head to look down at him, eyes watching Wolfwood with an interested detachment that seemed less about lust and more like study.

There wasn’t room on this bed for two guys, and the too-soft mattress helped things along some by rolling them together. Vash’s leather-clad body pressed all along the length of his side. And this whole damn thing was stupid and fucked up, but he could sure as hell appreciate the feel of him and the visuals that came with it.

His cock got harder.

Vash reached over him with his free hand, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, ghost-light brush of fingers over his skin as they pushed the cloth apart. Vash leaned in and down, his mouth back on Wolfwood’s skin where it felt so good, licking and sucking his way down his chest as he tugged the bottom of the shirt free of his trousers. Wolfwood followed his lead once again, running his hands around Vash’s neck beneath the spikes of hair and feeling for the fastenings at the collar of the jumpsuit.

“Don’t.” It was spoken with something more like Vash’s normal voice, but still clearly a command, not a request. He’d lifted his head from Wolfwood’s body to stare at him, expression rigidly neutral.

Wolfwood left his hands where they were. He hadn’t been right on board with this when he’d first agreed to it, and nothing so far was making him any happier. “Why the hell not?”

“I don’t want you to.”

It was obvious enough why, really. Vash with the taut lines of his body defined by clinging black suit looked a hell of a lot better than Vash naked. But if he wasn’t real sure about getting fucked, he was even less inclined to get fucked by someone who wouldn’t even take his damn clothes off.

His fingers rested on metal, cold and solid contrast to the leather and the short, soft hair on Vash’s neck. He tugged gently at the fastener.

“No.” Vash’s voice so low and quiet, and enough there in a single syllable to still his fingers. This wasn’t an issue to push on - not if he wanted to keep this clean. 

Screw it. It was Vash’s hang-up, not his, and whatever was with the attitude right now, Vash keeping the clothes wasn’t about control. Or mostly not. He shrugged as best he could lying flat on his back, taut sheets tugging against his shoulder blades. “Whatever.” He ran his fingers away from the fastenings and down Vash’s arms, one ridged and warm beneath his touch, the other cool as the room. He felt Vash’s body change beneath his hands, the tension leaving the muscles, more of his weight relaxing against him, heavy and hot.

He traced along the scar above Vash’s elbow, following it most of the way around, wondered how close he’d come to losing that one too. Vash’s hands were back at his clothes, unfastening and parting, fingers stroking slow and easy at his exposed skin, Vash moving to straddle his hips and lowering himself down onto his body, his mouth following his fingers over his chest. Cool air and warm lips had him shivering at the contrast, Vash’s tongue playing light and slow across his ribs as those hands moved to tug at his belt. Hands that were so close to his cock now, close to his cock that wanted them, wanted the contact.

Wolfwood let his hands explore the suit, fingers finding the gaps along Vash’s flanks and the brief contacts with skin they allowed. Following the edges of leather and buckles over rough, jagged flesh, the change to unmarked smoothness, softness almost jarring. Breathing air deeper and needier as his body responded to Vash. Lifting shoulders and hips to let Vash undress him. Everything so lazy and casual and _nice_, because sex was about getting off mostly, and he’d never thought much about just lying and letting someone touch him. Every touch from Vash steady, light, deliberate, and as long as he didn’t look at Vash, he could think that this was so much easier than he’d imagined it would be when he’d first run with it, so sensual and so good. As long as he didn’t look at Vash. Because when he looked at Vash, the contrast between the way he was acting and the way he stared was just too fucking weird.

This wasn’t at all how he’d expected it, nothing like _he _ would be, twisted so tight by anger and guilt. But then Vash wasn’t anything like him, not even close; never was, despite the guns and the superficially similar lifestyles. The ability to take that kind of tension and use it with such careful control was incredible. 

It could almost be addictive, being the focus of that much concentrated attention. He didn’t know who the hell Vash was, but he knew enough to know he was different, interesting. And right now Vash was all about _him_, taking all of that intensity and sharpness he brought to a fight and turning it to making Wolfwood _feel_.

But it wasn’t really about him - there was nothing personal in any of it. It was like being studied, the way Vash noted every slight reaction of his body, adjusting the pressure and slide of his touches, learning so fast just where to touch and how; the place in the hollow of his stomach where a light trail of fingers was too ticklish and a firmer touch sent shivers through his muscles; the way quick, glancing touches on his chest made him arch upwards, the way he hissed out air when Vash trailed a damp finger down low across his hip. How he quivered when Vash breathed soft and long on his nipple or sucked lazily on the skin over his ribcage. Vash pieced it all together unbelievably fast, judging easily how his body responded, using his mouth and fingers until Wolfwood was openly panting, the sound harsh and loud in his own ears. 

He was a distraction for Vash, a convenient interest for that lightning mind to work on to avoid darker things.

And, god, it felt so fucking good.

The leather moved beneath his hands over the hard lines and curves of Vash’s body, his fingers sliding and clutching at the seams as he resisted the urge to pull at it and get Vash naked, to touch more of him, frustration in being limited to the leather and the ridged skin of his shoulders and arm, the unnatural smooth perfection of the gun arm.

Vash was still way too composed about this, deliberate and precise in everything he did and nothing on his face to show he was feeling a goddamn thing.

Wolfwood stroked his hand deliberately down the front of the suit, and that hard-on was still right there. Some part of Vash was taking a real interest at least. He found the fastening to Vash’s fly, opening him up and freeing his cock. Vash stopped everything he was doing to Wolfwood’s skin instantly.

He ran his fingers over Vash’s cock, quick and light. Smooth, not too big around, a little longer than some. Nice. He grinned up into Vash’s intense eyes. “Must have been getting kind of tight in there.”

“Yeah.” Vash’s lips parted in a smile, and Wolfwood really wished he wouldn’t because it didn’t change the rest of his expression at all. Okay, so trying to lighten this up some wasn’t a great move.

Vash wriggled further down the length of Wolfwood’s body, his cock pulling away from Wolfwood’s fingers. His lips and tongue went right back to work on Wolfwood’s skin, soft and good, his hands stroking lazily along his thighs. And it looked like he wasn’t gonna have to push to get that blow job he’d been thinking about earlier, because Vash’s mouth was sucking purposefully inwards across his hip, and _god_, warm, wet tongue ran along the length of him, fast like lightning, licked around the tip in shivering little strokes of heat and pressure. His lungs heaved, dragging in air, and his hips pushed upwards, and Vash swallowed his cock.

_Jesus._

Oh, he’d been right about that mouth, so hot and sudden after the cool air of the room, Vash’s tongue pressing firmly and moving against him as he sucked, the muscles of his throat working the head. _God_, it didn’t get much better than this. Sometimes the tease was good, the light play of flicking tongue, but he was never gonna object to it quick and dirty with someone who knew just how to do it, get him real hard and then get him off. Damn. _So_ good, the friction and the heat, and Vash’s grasping fingers tight on his hips, and _shit_, he still hadn’t got the stuff and they were gonna need it real soon, and he was pretty sure he knew where it was and –

Wolfwood reached down from the bed, fingers groping blind in the side pocket of his bag, quickly latching onto condoms and a small tube of lube. “Here.” He almost regretted it because Vash stopped sucking, and the chill air hit his wet cock like an ice cube as his mouth pulled away.

“Don’t need those,” Vash said, tossing aside the box and reaching for the cap on the lube.

“Fuck that!” Oh, yeah, that got his attention on him for real. Wolfwood glared up into Vash’s suddenly very surprised eyes. “You don’t wanna use a rubber, this stops right now.” Hoped like hell that Vash was in the mood to compromise, because if Vash didn’t like either of those options, he was in a lousy position to be kicking off a guy roughly his own weight and who moved so goddamn fast. An hour ago he’d never even have considered the possibility, but with Vash like this he wasn't feeling quite so sure....

Vash stared down at him, assessing, _thinking_, and Wolfwood always wanted to know what the hell went through the guy’s brain when he looked like that. Really wanted to know right now, because which way this went from here was all hanging on something in Vash’s head. 

His eyes stayed locked onto Vash’s, watching for that first hint of what he was going to do with the ultimatum. He relaxed his muscles into a loose readiness, too much tension beforehand a hindrance when he needed to move fast and hard. His pulse picked up in a deliberate way that just having his cock thoroughly sucked hadn’t managed, his body humming on the tension of waiting.

It had been a while since he’d felt that adrenaline kick without a gun in his hand.

He liked it. Always had.

“Okay,” Vash said, sliding off him and reaching down to the floor for the discarded box. 

Wolfwood let his head sink back into the pillow again, exhaling air long and slow. 

It hadn’t been there. He’d been watching for it, for the change as Vash made a decision, some flicker in his eyes to let him know, and there’d been _nothing_. If this had turned nasty, there wouldn’t have been any warning, and he could have found himself in some unpleasant shit right about now.

Vash trailed warm fingers lightly down his ribs and over his belly, his skin twitching and shivering at the contact, adrenaline heightening his awareness and driving the reaction. “Pay attention.” 

His eyes shot back to meet Vash’s, still with that flat stare, the strange, soft voice when he spoke. That fucking smile again that didn’t mean a goddamn thing, but his hands, his _hands_ were good, and then his mouth again, hot, damn. Vash sucking on his cock, the snick of plastic as Vash snapped open the cap on the lube, cool, slick fingers pushing between his thighs, Wolfwood shifting to give him access.

Fingers, yeah, fingers were good – a man’s, a woman’s, his own occasionally - this was something he knew well, and, yeah, _right there_ was the spot that got him so fucking hard.

“There – that’s good.”

“I know.” Course he knew. Shit, too good, reactions from his body that Vash couldn’t miss, his cock jumping against Vash’s lips at the pressure deep inside him. Fingers fucking and stroking him, mouth sucking and tongue pushing against him, the where and how of everything Vash did so uncannily perfect, spikes of hair stiff between his fingers, grunting soft and low down in his throat, so close, so close now –

Vash’s mouth pulled away and the fingers withdrew from inside him.

And, shit, that was a lousy thing to do, because he couldn’t _get_ any harder, he just wanted to get off, _now_. But Vash had stopped short of sucking him off because he was gonna fuck him real soon now, and being fucked by Vash was getting to feel less and less like the lousy idea it still was. Getting to feel like something he wanted, although he knew he didn’t.

He reached up to grab the pillow from behind his head and pushed it under his hips, lifted his legs higher, wider. This wasn’t the easiest way to do it, but he was damned if he was gonna be fucked like a dog, ‘specially not with Vash still mostly dressed. Vash was gonna have to look at him while he fucked him. He looked along his body and met Vash’s gaze with a slight curve to his lips, something like a challenge. 

Vash took out one of the condoms and opened it with a distinctive crackle of plastic, letting the wrapper drift to the floor.

Wolfwood watched as he reached for the lube again, squeezed a little into the tip of the condom before he rolled it smoothly down the length of his cock. Vash might not like using rubbers, but he obviously knew some of the tricks.

More lube, Vash slicking the outside of the condom, closing his eyes with a quick, sharp breath at the touch of his own hand. Moving his body over Wolfwood’s, shoulders pushing up behind his ankles and taking the strain, leather and skin against his own.

Pressure of Vash’s cock against his body. He tightened his jaw muscles, teeth pressing together, trying not to let it look too obvious. He could deal with pain. He was good at it.

Sudden give of his flesh as Vash pushed harder, and _shit_, yeah, the pain was all too fucking there as Vash slid in deep. His muscles clamped down hard in reaction, uselessly trying to keep him out. He closed his eyes, forcing his short, harsh breaths under control. Steady inhale of air through his nose, long slow expel through parted lips and teeth. Willed his muscles to relax, the tension out of his body.

Vash was frozen above him when he opened his eyes, his face shadowed and expression unreadable. 

“It’s okay,” he said, quick, forced grin. “It’s just – it’s been a while, you know?”

“I – yeah.” Vash didn’t sound even half convinced. But this, at least, was more like the Vash he knew, concerned and really _there_ instead of off some place inside his own head. Wolfwood grabbed his arm before Vash could think of pulling away. The pain was still there, the heated stretch at his ass, the aching cramp higher in his gut, but he had a grip on it.

Vash straightened his arms, more light hitting his face as he lifted his weight away from Wolfwood. His eyes still watched Wolfwood, still assessing, but that hard, almost creepy edge to it had gone now. “Like I said, it’s okay.” Lousy, failed sex would likely be more awkward for the tenuous friendship he’d been developing with Vash than just finishing this and then blaming the booze. “Just give me a minute.”

But Vash’s right hand was already moving past Wolfwood’s leg to his cock, gripping him just tight enough and jerking him, fast, smooth, rhythmic, how he liked it, _damn_. Something in the flick of Vash’s thumb as he ran it over the head at the end of each stroke was way too good, fuck, almost as good as his mouth had been, everything still with that extra edge of adrenaline not yet out of his system, and this time he’d damn well better let him _come_. His hips pushed up into Vash’s hand, curling his spine, his legs using Vash’s shoulders for leverage, driving for more of this, needing it, and Vash’s cock shifted deep inside him as he moved, and that was okay, because it kinda didn’t ache that much, and what he was getting was so much better. His eyelids shuddered closed, his breath rasping dry through his throat, soft leather and coarse sheets gripped in his fingers as the sensations from his groin quivered through every muscle. Vash moving over him now, leather pushing against his thighs, cock gliding in and out of his body slow and easy, and that was okay too, didn’t really matter as long as he kept his hand going exactly like that. Didn’t matter until Vash wriggled and shifted more upright, and then it mattered a _hell_ of a lot, Vash’s cock sending fire through his nerves and direct to his balls with every push in. The spiralling need combined with the ache as Vash slid deeper, and deeper was good, ache or no damn ache, because deeper meant more of that pressure where he wanted it, more brushing over nerves that set his entire skin shivering, and that hand and that cock just kept driving him further, until finally, _god_, finally, he was panting and shaking and coming so fucking _hard_, Vash still moving inside him, hand continuing to jerk him until his body stilled and calmed.

Wolfwood uncurled his fingers from the sheets. Breathed.

He felt Vash shift his shoulders out from under his legs, using both hands now to push his knees that bit higher, and it was a good thing he was so relaxed right now or that might’ve hurt.

His eyes flickered open, looked up at Vash – Vash as he’d never seen him, flushed, eyes wide and oddly almost _glowing_, sweat gathered across the skin of his shoulders, all clinging black suit and straggling blond spikes. 

He wasn’t that clean, empty kind of good-looking like he mostly was. Like this, he was seriously hot. Damn.

Vash straightened himself fully upright and fucked him. Hard. 

He had a feeling it ought to hurt a lot more, given how it had hurt at first, and now he wasn’t distracted by the need to come. There was still some ache when Vash pushed right in, nothing big. Vash was missing his prostate now, but the movement inside him didn’t feel unpleasant without it. 

The bed creaked and swayed slightly beneath him with each push of Vash’s hips, each fast slide of Vash’s cock into him.

He should have been more pissed off at the idea of being casually fucked this way, but it was almost too much of an effort to care. And Vash looked real good like this, more of his hair drifting forward to fall across his eyes and stick to his forehead, darkening with the sweat. The suit moved with the muscles of his chest and stomach as his hips curled in and drew back, his mouth open to suck in short, heaving breaths. That tongue that had felt so perfect on his cock shifted visibly behind his teeth.

Vash’s head fell forward as he thrust in and stilled, coming with a short, choked groan. 

Yeah. Definitely glowing, those eyes, real obvious even behind the hair. Kind of late to start worrying about that now, though.

Vash’s body shivered above him, inside him. 

Vash shifted and released Wolfwood’s legs, one hand going to his groin to keep the condom in place as he pulled out of him. 

The air hit his skin, cold now where Vash had been touching him.

Vash swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed by Wolfwood’s thighs. Slid the condom off and threw it into the trash can in the corner. Spikes of hair sagged down over his sweat-streaked neck and shoulders.

Wolfwood dragged the sheets over his body and rolled onto his side, away from Vash. Light reflected from the desk near the door, the two glasses sitting there that they hadn’t drunk from.

He felt the bed shift, heard the creak as Vash’s weight lifted away. Didn’t hear any footsteps, just the sound of running water from the sink, the slight squeak of a tap with a worn washer as the flow was stopped. The mattress tipped again as Vash returned. He sat on the edge of the bed still, making no move to stretch out alongside him.

God, he needed a smoke. But he sure as hell didn’t want a conversation, and he didn’t know if Vash might try to talk if he looked awake. 

He kept his eyes closed and his breathing smooth and slow.

There was no more shifting of the bed, no movement from Vash beside him. He stayed sitting upright, quiet. Wolfwood had a strong suspicion his sleeping act wasn’t near good enough to fool Vash, but at least the guy could take a hint and was leaving him alone.

A couple of drunks were singing a way along the street. Badly. They probably had enough sense not to go back to wherever and fuck each other.

He could barely even hear Vash breathing

There was lube wet on his ass and a little down his thighs. Vash had used a lot.

The sweat and come was cool and sticky on his skin. The sheets clung along the length of his body. 

He wasn’t concentrating on his breathing any more, but his lungs kept the pattern easily enough.

*****

Wolfwood woke to find Vash long gone, the sheets cold, his scent faded away with the heat. His brain felt dulled by sleep and the lassitude that clung after a really good fuck, and a quick glance at the clock confirmed it was still only just after one. Vash must have left right after he'd fallen asleep.

Good. It made things a hell of a lot easier if Vash wasn’t wanting to see this as any more than what it was, a one-shot deal. He’d figured as much, the lack of kissing something of a give-away of an impersonal screw, no matter where else Vash’s mouth had been. Still, it was better to know for sure.

He reached for his cigarettes - he was awake anyway, and that niggling feeling high in his gut and his throat reminded him he’d missed out before he went to sleep. Matches. Where the hell had he put his matches? Cigarette clamped between his teeth, groping on the bedside table in the dark – Vash must’ve turned out the light. He reached out and swept his arm right over the surface, knocking the ashtray to the floor with a dull thud. No rattle of matches. Shit.

Sighing, he sat fully upright and switched on the light. The matches were under the table near the ashtray, probably knocked off some time during the screwing. He rescued them both, leaving the spilled butts and ash where they were - he’d clear up in the morning.

The match hissed and flared, and he sucked the smoke in, hard and deep, holding it, feeling the drug rush through his system before he released it. God, so good that first inhale. Just hanging on the edge of craving and satisfaction for that brief moment, the loosening in his body almost instantaneous. 

He smoked through half of it fast, systematic, before he figured he was awake enough to deal with the thinking part.

Jesus. 

Despite what he’d seen and what he knew, he’d never managed to think of Vash as genuinely dangerous. Not to him. 

That had turned out to be one hell of an oversight. Oh, Vash controlled it in a way Knives had never even wanted to, but it was in there all the same, that desire not just to kill, but to _hurt_. And this was Vash, and it didn’t really matter a damn that that need to hurt wasn’t actually aimed at him.

He'd never guessed how thin that control could stretch. He hoped he could go a hell of a long time before he saw that side of Vash again.

He wondered how he should have played it. Some way that wouldn’t have ended in Vash hitting on him. Sex wasn’t part of the job. Any job.

He watched the smoke curl upwards in front of his eyes.

He'd liked it.

Getting fucked was never gonna be his favourite take on sex, but Vash had made it pretty good. And maybe some of that was down to just not getting laid enough lately, but not all of it. Some of it was pure Vash, instincts and observation used unerringly to make Wolfwood want him.

He wondered if that was how it worked when they fought together. If what seemed at the time almost like telepathy was all just Vash – Vash watching him and seeing every slight shift in his body, predicting his next move and so putting himself in the right place. Vash reading him the way he'd read him when he touched him.

Something different. Interesting. No shit.

It didn’t feel so good _now_, of course, the way his ass ached, but it was nothing he couldn’t live with. And Vash had a great mouth on him; he wouldn’t mind having that again.

He briefly got to wondering if Vash might be willing to be fucked sometime.

He took another slow drag, smoke settling heavy and satisfying in his lungs. 

It was still a lousy idea. And if he was right about it being part of Knives’ twisted little scenario, it was even worse of an idea. He’d have to be really fucking stupid to get himself any deeper into the shit that came out of that guy’s head.

So, yeah, he’d play it the way Vash obviously wanted it too, play it like it never happened. Easy enough to do – just another layer to add to the lies they told each other with everything they didn’t say. Having one more thing to avoid wasn’t gonna make a big difference.

He might think of Vash’s mouth now and then when he jerked off, though.

He flattened the end of his cigarette into the ashtray and walked over to lock the door again, the key turning easily with a soft snick.

Fanart by P. L. Nunn, whose website I'm not linking to because it contains fanart for sale and I don't want to tread on AO3's toes, but she's easy enough to google. 


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